


In the Lap of Alien Stones

by voleuse



Category: The Grisha Trilogy - Leigh Bardugo
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:35:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21895993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voleuse/pseuds/voleuse
Summary: I am your craft, your vesture--you lose your purport, losing me.Giving in is a pleasure Alina can't deny herself.
Relationships: The Darkling | Aleksander Morozova/Alina Starkov
Comments: 5
Kudos: 51
Collections: Yuletide 2019





	In the Lap of Alien Stones

**Author's Note:**

  * For [redbelles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/redbelles/gifts).



> AU. Probably taking place a bit before the end of _Shadow and Bone_ , time-wise.

i. _if cracked, I lie_  
The Unsea was smooth as they sailed upon it, save the idly lapping of water against the sides of the ship. Aside from that, silence, though Alina knew the crew of the ship had to be around, someplace.

She twined her arms around the Darkling's neck and thought, perhaps, that he had found a way to bind them into blessed solitude, made the rest of the world disappear as they tangled together in the Darkling's cabin. The bed may as well have been a straw pallet to their usual custom, but Alina barely noticed it. She might have been floating.

The Darkling trailed his fingers down her throat, smiling as he traced the antler's curve against her skin. His touch sparked a roil low in her belly, like every night descending upon her all at once.

"This is only the beginning," he whispered. "There will be so, so much more."

ii. _empty of words that made it sweet_  
By the time they returned to Os Alta, Alina's belongings had already been relocated into the Darkling's quarters. (She had few enough, after all.) While she felt she should, perhaps, bid Genya hello, or perhaps rest from the journey, grow accustomed to the antler's hold. Instead, however, the Darkling commanded a light supper be delivered to his quarters, and she was swept into his wake with little discussion.

Evenings melted into nights, into mornings, into days long in hours and endless in a new monotony. Alina had thought she would return to her studies, perhaps practicing the use of the amplifier, or parsing the newest theories underlying the Small Science. Instead, she found herself at her own leisure, sleeping late as she pleased, with the finest morsels and wine appearing at her request.

And the Darkling would come to her, often at night, but sometimes sweeping in with her tea, or returning to her right after she broke her fast. (Where did he go when he was gone? She thought to ask, sometimes, but never seemed to find the right opportunity.) Alina was always a bit surprised at his ardor, at the urgency of his embrace, no matter how many times they had come together before.

He kissed her like a man both starving and sated at once.

iii. _seek and long for, wearily_  
Alina began to slip out on her own, once or twice a day. 

Genya, with a knowing smile, drew Alina into entirely different conversations. There were unguents, and perfume for her pulse points, and a tisane to brew on a regular basis. She had a royal tailor drape Alina with lace and silk, a few scraps of nigh-nothing that made Alina blush. (She was worried that Genya would ask more details about the Darkling; she was somewhat disappointed when Genya didn't even bring it up.) And Alina sometimes stammered as they talked about more intimate matters, but she also had Genya repeat a few things for further clarity.

The first time Alina made her way out, Baghra stared at her for a long, sad minute, but didn't say anything after that.

iv. _your cloak will fall from aching bones_  
The Darkling began to bring Alina along on his ventures, where she was treated as companion and trophy both. (Alina told herself it was the amplifier around her neck that he boasted of owning.) Though many of his errands were, in fact, journeys to find new Grisha, he also brought her into his audiences with the king. It took Alina a while to read beneath the banal discussions they tended to have. The real discourse was, in fact, shifts in posture, a twitch of a mouth, or a gaze the Darkling let fall upon Alina. 

There were other travels she had not thought to suspect, though: Lively negotiations with traders for delicacies routed through Kerch. Inspection of the shipyards building the next sloop for the Second Army's use. Furtive meetings with a Fjerdan who never quite stepped into the light of the alehouse near the border that they had descended upon. 

Most fascinating, however, were the midnight visits to the Fabrikator workshops, where one of the Alkemi experimented on a flammable gel that glowed green when exposed to the air.

The Darkling would offer further context as they returned to Little Palace. She'd lean against him in the carriage, and he'd expound on lapsed trade agreements, or Fjerdan politics, or how the Small Science could hone navigation instruments. The thing he didn't say, though Alina saw it underpinning every trip, was war. 

The Darkling was preparing for war.

v. _long endeared, will wonder_  
Alina awoke when he eased into the bed next to her, his hands cold from the brisk winds she could hear outside. She turned over in bed, still dozy enough to feel enveloped in a warm haze.

"I woke you," the Darkling said. 

Alina smiled, twined her arms around his neck. "Not completely." She turned her face up, and he complied, brushing his lips against her forehead before catching her lips in a kiss. When he pulled back, Alina allowed herself a soft whine, if only to see him smile in response to that audible signal of desire.

"But if you'd rather slumber," he said, "a simple embrace will surely suffice." 

In response, Alina slid her hands down his chest, then lower. The Darkling jolted, moaned. "Wake me," she said, and it emerged as a command.

"My lady," the Darkling said, and complied.

vi. _when the sun has disappeared_  
The new sloop, it turned out, was meant for Alina, though the Darkling remained in command. For their mission, aside from the ship's dedicated crew, Alina chose several Squallers, Tidemakers, and the most experienced Heartrenders.

As they set out to sea, Alina wandered from the Darkling's side and made her way to the prow of the ship. The sky was streaked with clouds, and she closed her eyes to cherish the scent of salt and lightning that lay ahead.

"Alina," someone said behind her, and the tone--demanding but hesitant--told her the identity more than the voice itself.

She opened her eyes to take in the expression Ivan wore to complement his approach. That arrogance he always carried was there, but there was wariness, as well. As if Alina were a snake, and he hadn't yet determined she was poisonous.

"Alina?" he repeated, though it was a question implied.

"Ivan," she responded. "What is it?"

He glanced back to where the Darkling spoke with the ship's captain. "None of us know," he started, then stopped. "What are we seeking, on this journey."

"Ah." Alina touched a hand to her throat, reassuring herself with the hum of power the collar made resonate within her. She, too, turned, and found herself meeting the Darkling's eyes. "We're going to find the sea whip," she said. "Rusalye will soon be ours."

**Author's Note:**

> Title, summary, and headings adapted from Rainer Maria Rilke's "[What Will You Do?](https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poetrymagazine/browse?contentId=15832)"


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